


"They're Awesome, Bro."

by dirtyboy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (1978), Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Depravation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, Fetish, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Forced Prostitution, Jocks, M/M, Masturbation, Nepiophilia, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Racial slurs, Rape, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sexual Slavery, Shower Sex, Slurs, Soldiers, Toddlers, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyboy/pseuds/dirtyboy
Summary: Jocks fucking extremely underage boys. And when I say "extremely", it's meant to be to the limit.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> because I can. this is fiction.
> 
> if you want me to continue this particular story faster, you are welcome to show me some love. comment in the story afterwards, so I know which one is receiving the most attention.
> 
> if you'd like me to write a story for you, leave a comment with your wickr acccount name so we can talk more freely. (comments won't appear automatically unless approved by me, so don't worry.)

Olly seemed to be melting in the afterglow of a transcendental revelation. His achingly handsome face wore the misty-eyed well-fucked look of a nun who has just cum hard to a vision of the archangels Michael and Gabriel DPing her holes with their mighty heavenly pricks. Olly’s exquisitely toned body gave off a wonderfully rich smell of young male sweat with salty overtones of sperm. The sexy jock’s intense presence was boning me up like never before.

“But are you OK?” I asked, seeking to conceal my curiosity under a mask of concern. “Your eyelids are all red.”

“Oh, I haven’t slept for two nights. I just couldn’t stop fucking. Couldn’t stop.”

This reminded Olly that he hadn’t showered for three days either. The thought prompted him to bury his nose in his right armpit. As he inhaled deeply, his flawless ivory skin flushed pink and his juicy young schlong tented his tight shorts, caked with multiple spunk stains. Glowing with arousal, he covered his bulging biceps with sloppy lustful licks. He got boned up by his own hotness.

“I knew a great cum can make you feel on top of the world,” he continued in his sexy Southern drawl. “But I never knew it could change the world itself, and change you too.” A dreamy far-away look again flitted across his face. “They’ve shown that to me. I fucking worship them.”

I felt the sharp sting of jealousy burning me like nettles. I had once hoped that Olly would worship me. I had vividly imagined perving on his child-like freckly nose while he busied himself between my thighs, looking up at me with his sapphire-blue eyes and milking my daddy-prick with his bee-stung lips. I had pictured myself running my fingers through his luxuriant hair as I ejaculated my creamy semen in his tight throat. But no, he only had time for Sean and Tyler.

What did they have that I didn’t? Sure, they were built like fucking gods, but, not to beat about the bush, so was I. Sure, they were filthy rich, but so was I. And, to come to the point, surely any twink like Olly, obviously craving daddy cock, could do better than to go after Sean and Tyler, who were themselves the most shameless cock-hungry sluts? I mean, Tyler seemed constitutionally unable to stop his pants slipping down to expose his bubble butt whenever he sensed the presence of a big-pricked daddy within a two-mile radius.

Olly put an end to my tortured reflections:

“Fuck it!” he shouted. “I cannot go home. Sleep can wait. I’m going back! My balls are full again and there’s only one type of hole that can drain them now… Come! You’ll see what I’m talking about. It’ll blow your mind too.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, I was running after him as he jangled my car keys.

“You’re driving!” he called out joyfully.

At the gates of Sean and Tyler’s seaside mansion a remotely controlled CCTV camera zoomed in on Olly’s pretty face. The gates swung open without a word being spoken. The forecourt was crammed with big motorbikes and showy sports cars. The first surprise hit me in the luxurious hall, which was busy with drop-dead gorgeous naked studs coming and going in all directions. I started to salivate when I noticed that quite a few of these sex gods were obviously under-age, some thirteen or fourteen at most; yet, like all the others,they were sporting erections that looked hard as granite.

I wanted to linger and perv, but Olly grabbed me by the arm and dragged me down a spiral flight of stairs.

“Lose your clothes. We’re going to the cinema first,” he announced peremptorily.

As we passed through the swing doors into the dimly lit projection room in the basement, I was almost thrown back by an incredibly strong smell of sex―a heady mixture of sweat, spunk, lube, and poppers. The room was furnished with recliners, sofas, and large round beds occupied by around twenty boys and men watching the film that was playing on the huge screen at the far end. A few guys were sniffing poppers and slowly wanking their massive dicks on their own; many were leisurely fucking in clusters; but all were attentively following the action on the screen.

My jaw dropped when, among the groups of tangled bodies, I spied a hot silver fox gently pumping his beercan prick into the tight ass of a seven- or eight-year-old blond child while he held a bottle of poppers under the young boy’s nostrils. What was astonishing about this scene of casual pedophilia was that nobody was paying any attention to them, and the man didn’t look particularly focused on the little kid he was fucking. Not far off, a boy in his mid teens sat on an armchair while a small tyke, young enough to be in first grade, knelt between his legs and sucked his juicy teen schlong. Again, the teen pedo seemed to ignore the six-year-old child slurping on his cockmeat; he was utterly preoccupied with not missing a second of the film while he sniffed his poppers. Everyone seemed completely absorbed in the movie.

“Sit,” Olly ordered, pointing to a place next to him on a plush sofa.

“You can’t be telling me that you’ve brought me all this way to watch porn,” I whispered. “Look, they’re fucking kids!”

This fact seemed to me to be infinitely more interesting than any porn film could be. It had made my daddy dick go rock-hard.

“Hush, you moron,” Olly hissed back at me angrily. “Watch and learn!”

What I saw on the screen left me completely at a loss. What on earth could Olly mean? The logo on the top right corner, JnT, made me none the wiser. It just looked like a Hollywood action movie. The camera followed a muscle-bound US infantryman as he machine-gunned his way through a village in some mountainous region of the Middle East. Some of the young men who crossed the rampaging soldier’s path and who got killed on the spot had beautiful Aryan faces with stunning blue eyes, so I took them to be Pashtuns and I assumed the film to be set in Afghanistan. The soldier himself was breathtakingly handsome, giving off an air of danger, dominance, and aggression that would make any fag go weak at the knees.

But how could an action hero be more interesting than the sexy six-year-old child who was having his little throat fucked by a fat teen schlong just a few steps away? Or than the pretty eight-year-old on my left, who was high on poppers as his tight ass took the massive prick of a pedo six or seven times his age?

Yet even the two pedos appeared more interested in the film than in the children they were sexually abusing, so I decided that there could be something in what Olly was saying after all. Looking back at the screen, I watched the infantryman kick down the door of a poor hovel. A quick scan of the dingy dwelling revealed a single sparsely furnished room, occupied by two naked Pashtun children: a little two-year-old with teary cheeks apprehensively sucking his little thumb, and a tiny baby, five or six months old, lying on a crib.

I inwardly groaned at the predictability of porn movie plots. I could see that the hero was going to rescue these cute little infants and that he would later be rewarded with a hot blowjob from their relieved and oh-so-grateful daddy. But my jaw dropped when the action turned in the direction I least expected. Looking around him, the soldier holstered his machine gun and then his hands moved to his crotch. I gasped as he licked his lips and started to unbutton the flies of his battledress pants.

No! I couldn’t believe it! Surely he wasn’t going to fuck the two-year-old tot? Goggle-eyed, I turned to Olly, who grinned at me and stuck his tongue out in a gesture of depraved arousal. He was masturbating his flawless fratboy dick with long firm strokes. A ripple of excitement swept through through the projection room as the soldier, leaving his waist button fastened, let his enormous cock and balls hang out of the flies of his fatigues. His erect member was monstrous in size, clearly above twelve inches. His testicles would have made a bull proud. The amazing quality of his equipment gave the game away, showing that he was in fact a pornstar and not a real serviceman. His cock was dripping thick strands of gooey precum, but it was clear that, if it penetrated the two-year-old’s chubby bum, it would completely wreck it. No amount of lubrication could prevent that.

But, boy, was I wrong! The infantryman ignored the two-year-old tot and made a bee-line for the little baby. He grabbed the tiny naked infant in his huge manly hands and laid him face-down on the table in the middle of the room.

The camera zoomed in on the newborn’s opulent asscheeks, rolling with baby fat. The soldier used the thumb and index finger of his left hand to open up the baby’s little cunt, revealing a tiny pink anal rosebud nestled among the mounds of chubby baby flesh. With his right hand, the baby rapist lined up his huge sex muscle with the newborn’s rear entry and began to push.

“Fuuuuck,” the soldier groaned in an incredibly deep voice as inch after inch of cockmeat disappeared into the six-month-old baby’s impossibly small ass. “Mmmph, take my Big White Cock up your newborn ass, you sand-nigger slut!”

The whole cinema erupted in whoops and cheers. Ahead of me, the teen boy’s eyes rolled back in his head as he noisily ejaculated in the mouth of the first-grader sucking his young schlong. The silver fox was now aggressively pistoning his beercan prick into his eight-year-old fucktoy.

“See how he fucks the baby? That’s what I did to you when we first brought you home, Jay.”

Further away, two bros were basking in the depravity of the scene as they wanked their nepi pricks.

“Fuck,” one of them joked, “tomorrow I’m signing up! I need to be posted abroad to rape foreign babies!”

Other guys shushed him, however. They were keen not to miss a word of the dirty talk that the soldier continued to spout as he powerfucked the six-month-old baby with long greedy strokes.

“Corporal Jones to, unngh, to base,” the nepi warrior spoke into the mouthpiece of his radio headset. “I’ve reached the target. I’m, fuck!, I’m hilted balls-deep in it. Mmmm… Fucking tight! Over.”

An answer come back, unintelligible amid static noise.

“Roger that!” the soldier responded. “Fuck yeah!”

Corporal Jones’s started to sodomize the baby even more greedily. The camera swung to give a view of the fuck from below, showing his enormous testicles slapping sweatily on the newborn’s legs.

“Oh those balls…,” an aroused viewer could be heard to sigh as he had his own testicles lovingly licked by a buddy.

Then the camera zoomed in on the infantryman’s cockshaft as it began to pulsate. His loud moans of pleasure confirmed that he was creaming himself inside the baby’s hot body. A split second later thick waves of sperm started to leak from the newborn’s well-fucked ass.

Panting but satisfied, the soldier unceremoniously withdrew his spermy cock from the infant’s fuckhole and packed it back into his battledress pants. He grabbed the two-year-old tot and slung him over his right shoulder, and then took hold of the six-month-old baby in his left arm. Walking out of the hovel, he again spoke into his mouthpiece.

“Corporal Jones to base. Returning home with booty. Tell the guys to cancel the football match. It’ll be a gang-rape this afternoon. Over and out.”


	2. Part Two

“Holy fuck!“ I muttered under my breath as Corporal Jones vanished from the screen with his two little captives.

I felt dizzy and light-headed. My heart was pounding in my chest, and the strange metallic taste of extreme arousal filled my mouth. I dared not touch my throbbing dick for fear that it would erupt in a geyser of semen. I desperately craved a small child’s head between my thighs, so that I could relieve myself of this unbearable tension by powerfucking his little throat.

Olly noticed my labored breathing.

“You OK?” he asked with a smirk.

“I think I may pass out. That was way too hot, man.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s like,” he replied with a grin, obviously relishing my horned-up state. “When I have my fat schlong hilted in a little baby’s tight ass, and I’m mashing my crotch on his chubby asscheeks, and his hot newborn flesh feels so fucking good on my meat, and my balls are heavy with daddymilk, and all around me there are mega-ripped sweaty studs making out with one another as they nut inside tiny tots’ holes, then, well …, sometimes I just need a minute to breathe.”

“Hot damn, dude! You mean you have―”

“―fucked under-one babycunt?” Olly cut in. “Fuck yeah! It’s the best, bro!”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I thought it was impossible. I mean, I’ve often thought about it.” A new wave of intense arousal swept through my body as, for the first time in my life, I openly acknowledged my most secret desires. “How could I not? I’ve been a pedo since forever, and if you get boned up by small children, the smaller the better, then sooner or later you’re bound to start thinking of babies as the pinnacle of child sex, as the ultimate pedo fuck. So, yeah, I’ve blown many a nut to thoughts of ploughing tiny under-one asses. But, you see, I thought it was just an impossible dream: I thought it couldn’t be done―like, physically. But, holy fuck, that pornstar made it look so easy! I mean, he was sweating with the effort, but the baby slut took twelve inches up his tiny ass like a champ! Fuck!”

“I know,” replied Olly. “I was the same. But that’s what I was trying to say earlier: I hooked up with Sean and Tyler, and―”

Our conversation was interrupted by a loud whine from a pretty teenager, sixteen or seventeen years old, who threw himself on a sofa in front of Olly.

“I’m going off my fucking head,” the adolescent complained. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What’s wrong, Joey?” Olly asked, smiling affectionately.

Joey was a mouth-watering piece of teen ass: a light boyish frame, flawless glowing skin, bee-stung lips, soulful blue eyes with thick lashes. He looked like the ideal incest partner: the kind of boy that daddies and older bros would want to mouth- and buttfuck twice a day on weekdays, and share with their buddies on weekends.

“Look at this!” Joey explained, using this thumb to bounce his perfect teen schlong, sweetly pink and deliciously veiny. “It’s so hard it fucking hurts! It hurts! And my balls hurt too. And I nutted only ten minutes ago. I’m going crazy here.”

“Aww, babyboy,” Olly cooed, “do you want me to kiss it better?” The lecherous look in his face left me in no doubt that he was only pretending to joke.

“There’s only one way to fix this, and that’s by me getting hot and sweaty with a six-month-old slut,” replied Joey, in no mood to flirt. “I’ve had it up to here with baby porn. I’m gonna lose it if I don’t have the real thing right now!” Poor Joey looked as feverish as a junkie on cold turkey. After appearing to debate with himself for a few seconds, he jumped back up. “There’s no choice,” he declared with finality. “I’m going to the daddy rooms.”

“The dad―?”

Before I could finish my question, Olly grabbed my arm and ran after Joey, who had rushed out of the projection room and up the spiral staircase.

“You’re gonna love this,” Olly whispered to me as we followed his horned-up teen friend into a different wing in Sean and Tyler’s mansion. “Just watch and enjoy, but keep a low profile and make sure you don’t say a word.”

Joey’s reference to “the real thing” had me trembling with anticipation. Questions kept bubbling up in my mind but, anxious not to spoil the opportunity, I remained silent.

On the way to Joey’s mysterious destination we walked past the grand entrance to what looked like a music room, with a closed concert piano standing toward the back of a large empty area. In the middle of this space a gorgeous young man was flexing his superb muscles, flaunting his mouth-watering body in an overtly sexual way.

Sitting on chairs arranged in a semicircle, six men watched the stud’s display. They all wore expensive business suits, but their flies were undone: each man had a small naked toddler between his legs fellating his large adult dick. The resonant acoustics of the room amplified the wet sloppy sounds of the six little mouths messily suckling on obscenely engorged slabs of man meat, interspersed with the moans and sighs of pleasure of the six massively endowed pedophiles. Two of them maintained an air of cool detachment, appearing to ignore the babies slurping on their huge pricks while they appraised the young man’s handsome face and rippling musculature. The others enjoyed themselves more lewdly, leering at the flexing stud as if he were a cheap slut, and holding their tots’ heads in their hands so as to fuck the babies’ tight throats more deeply.

“He must be applying for a studio audition with JnT,” Olly quietly explained in answer to my look of silent interrogation. “If he makes it all the way he’ll lead the life of a fucking god!”

“J, n―oh!” I exclaimed, as my brain connected the acronym with the logo on Corporal Jones’s video.

“That’s how Magnus Montaro started out too, the lucky bastard,” Joey added with unconcealed jealousy and bitterness. “Before that he used to work the daddy rooms like the rest of us.”

I yearned to linger near the music room. I was incredibly excited by the thought that the six JnT executives would be showing off to each other as, one by one, they reached orgasm and ejaculated floods of daddymilk into the sweet mouths of the little toddlers sucking their swollen nepi pricks. I wistfully reflected on how much keener I would be to attend the interminable business meetings that blighted my week if, instead of coffee and biscuits, the standard refreshments consisted of tiny naked children fellating the men’s hard cocks and licking their sweaty testicles. Yet I felt an even stronger curiosity about the “daddy rooms” that Joey kept mentioning, and so I followed him silently.

At the top of a ground sweep of stairs we found ourselves in a colonnaded gallery, with opened doors leading into apartment suites for guests. Joey made a bee-line for the first bedroom, where a good-looking naked man in his early thirties was watching hardcore child porn on a large TV screen. Stuck on his erect prick was an deliciously cute baby who looked four months old at most. The young daddy held his child in a close embrace, and planted gentle kisses on the infant’s head while he watched three awesomely endowed pornstars on the screen tagteam a two-month-old babygirl, using all her three holes simultaneously. It was a sweetly peaceful scene. His own baby looked calm, almost drowsy, as he sucked contentedly on his tiny thumb. The young man was not actively fucking his little son; it rather looked as if daddy’s sex muscle being hilted balls-deep in the baby’s chubby bum was just a normal everyday expression of their close intimacy.

“Good evening, sir,” said Joey, politely introducing himself. “May I please fuck your baby?”

I struggled to contain a gasp. The situation looked like a perverted parody of a 1950s film, with a respectful all-American boy asking a stern father for permission to take his daughter out on a date―except that the all-American boy was naked, his juicy young schlong was conspicuously swollen, his intended date was a four-month-old babyboy, and his plan for the evening consisted not of a burger, a milkshake, and a movie, but rather of repeated rounds of hot and sweaty oral and anal sex with the newborn child.

For a few seconds the man made no response. He considered Joey’s face attentively, but he stared even more intently at the boy’s big dick. The huge teen schlong, sweetly pink, conspicuously veined, and perfectly smooth, seemed to strike the baby’s daddy as a powerful argument in favor of Joey’s proposition.

“How old are you?” he at length asked.

“I’m fourteen, sir,” Joey lied. “I’m underage.”

“OK,” the man answered, visibly excited by Joey’s lie. “You know what to do. Get to work.”

With that, the thirty-year-old lifted his tiny son off his erect prick, which shone obscenely with precum and the infant’s juices. Laying the four-month-old fucktoy next to him on the bed, he spread his legs and offered his incestuous baby-abusing meat to Joey.

Joey put on a look of utter devotion and submission as he gave hot oral service to the baby’s daddy. He kissed and licked the pedophile’s knob, and kept making eye contact as if craving approval. Pleasure visibly surged through the man’s body as he basked in his feeling of power and control over the teenager. He clearly delighted in the experience of being sexually serviced by children, in having a minor working hard to get him off, with no thought of giving the exploited child any satisfaction in return.

“Right,” the pedophile said as his prick got rock-hard. “Talk to me. Make it good. Oh, and don’t call me sir; call me Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Joey answered immediately, with an exaggeratedly childish pronunciation which made the last syllable sound almost like “day”.

The following sentences were punctuated by lascivious sucking, in which Joey alternately made sweet love to the child-abuser’s prick or took all of the man’s sex muscle deep into his hot teen throat.

“Mmmm… Daddy, I’m a dirty pedo. I think about fucking babies all the time… All of the boys in my class do. Babies turn us on… Little ones, like my little bro… Really little ones, like three months old, like―fuck!―like newborns… We wanna fuck the sexy tiny sluts. They make us soooo hard, Daddy… That’s all we talk about. When we have sex in the showers. When the teachers fuck us in detention… We talk about feeding little babies our spunk, about destroying their miniature asses, about stealing newborn babies and gang-raping them…”

“Fuck yesss,” the man interrupted.

Joey was clearly hitting the spot: this obscene combination of worshipful fellatio and depraved nepiophilic confessional was obviously what the man was hoping for. He reached for a bottle of poppers on the night table, unscrewed the cap, and first held it under Joey’s nostrils before taking six deep sniffs himself. The effects of the drug showed on his face almost immediately: self-possession vacated the man’s features; the greedy pedophile beast took over.

“You dirty fucker,” the man growled, now fully in character as Joey’s dad. “Why would I let you fuck your brother?… Mmmpph… His ass is mine, mine alone… Ungh… Just like your ass is mine… I made you both with my balls, those balls you're―fuck!―you’re sucking like the disgusting pedo fag you are.”

“But Daddy,” Joey replied, encouraged by the john’s active participation in the fantasy he was weaving. “Tommy’s daddy… [gluck] You know Tommy, right? Two years below me? Only twelve?… [Ooamph] You said he was ‘fucking cute’, right?… [slurp] His daddy lets him fuck his new baby brother… They do it together, Daddy! All the time! Tommy’s mummy doesn’t mind.”

“Ah fuuckk,” the man groaned, again betraying his ecstatic enjoyment of the expert service that his pedo brain and his pedo prick were getting from Joey.

“But your ass is not half as fuckable as Tommy’s,” he continued, temporarily regaining control. “You’re getting old, fag: fourteen!… Ungh… You’ll have to give Daddy something else.”

Joey was a talented and experienced sex-worker: he immediately understood that the pedophile was giving him a cue. His brain worked fast. What had he seen when he had first walked into the room? The porno… Yes, that was it!

“OK, Daddy, I’ll work for it… [Oamph] I've―I’ve got a new babysitting job… It’s… [gluck] It’s a two-month-old babygirl and―”

“Angh,” the man moaned as his arousal spiralled out of control.

Joey now had his foot firmly planted on the pedophile’s sexual accelerator and knew how to rev the engine up to the max.

“Yes, Daddy… [slurp] You like three-hole babies better, don’t you Daddy? Two holes is good, but three holes is great, ain’t it, Daddy?”

“Oh yesss. Fuckkkk!” was all that the man could manage as a response.

“She’s got a fresh pussy, Daddy: only two months old,” Joey continued relentlessly. “Her daddy’s a cuck. He hasn’t fucked her yet… [Oamph] I’ll phone you from the house when he leaves. And I’ll call Tommy too… [Gluck] We’ll rape her virgin two-month-old holes together, Daddy: our three cocks in her three newborn holes… [slurp] Two underage cocks and one big adult daddydick triple-fucking a newborn babygirl―”

“Fuck yes, yes!, YES!” the man shouted in delirious joy.

“You’ll like that, Daddy… Tommy’s hairless dick, only twelve, in the babyslut’s mouth… [Suck] And my fourteen-year-old schlong up her tiny ass, Daddy. You’ll enjoy watching your son fucking the baby whore up the ass, won’t you, Daddy?… [Oamph] And, Daddy, you can have her little pussy, her chubby babycunt… Her cuntlips are so fucking fat, Daddy… She’s got such a FAT babycunt… You wanna destroy her newborn pussy, Daddy? Wreck her two-month-old cunt with your fat babyfucking pedo dick, Daddy? Eh?… Oh Daddy, we’ll enjoy it so much. My dick will rub on yours inside her hot body, Daddy… [Gluck] And you can make out with little Tommy as you wreck the baby’s pussy… Oh Daddy, you’ll like it! Snogging a child while you fuck a baby…”

“FUUUUCCKKKK!!!”

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he creamed himself helplessly in Joey’s busily sucking mouth. His orgasm was thunderous, and his whole body spasmed as he ejaculated volley after volley of sticky creamy pedo spunk. His prick kept on pulsating even after his balls had run out of sperm to shoot. He started to laugh with irrepressible joy.

“Fuck, kid, you’re amazing!” he generously conceded with a smile. “You’ve earned it. Have at him, stud!”

“YESSSS!”

Joey’s response was fast as lightning. In the blinking of an eye he was hilted balls-deep in the john’s little baby, powerfucking the four-month-old’s incredibly tight ass with aggressive hungry strokes.

Only at that point did I notice another teenager who had crept into the room and had been quietly watching the scene from an armchair in a corner. He looked amazingly innocent and sweet as he caressed his nipples and gently played with his balls. Yet a spark of hopeful excitement shone in his bashful eyes: he was not sure of himself yet, but he visibly burned with the desire to learn all the tricks that Joey had mastered―and to fuck very small babies.


	3. Part Three

“Gentlemen, Mr Deacon desires me to convey his hope that you’ve had a pleasant evening so far and that you’ll be able to stay in the house a little longer.”

“Oh fuuuuuucckk!”

I couldn’t decide what was more incongruous in the circumstances: the butler’s plummy British voice and cut-glass vowels, or his studied indifference to Joey’s guttural moans of pleasure as the teenager’s ejaculating schlong made a sploogey mess of the four-month-old baby’s thoroughly sodomized bottom.

“What? Oh―unff―yes, yes…” Olly struggled to take his eyes off the churning mass of flesh where Joey’s squirting dong and sweaty balls met the infant’s plump bumcheeks and the daddy’s sloppy tongue. “Thank you, Jennings.”

“Very good, sir.” The daddy’s meaty member immediately replaced Joey’s sex muscle inside the newborn’s spermy boycunt, forcing the butler to raise his voice to make himself heard above the wet slapping noises of unrestrained babyfucking. “In that case, Mr Deacon would like to request the pleasure of your company in his study. If you would kindly follow me, gentlemen.”

As Jennings led us out of the room, Olly’s confident steps gave every appearance that he already knew the way. I, in contrast, followed haltingly, trying to keep up while clumsily attempting to put my boxers back on.

The butler paused and looked back at me with condescension. “I do assure you there is absolutely no need to dress, sir.”

Olly’s amused smile confirmed this: arms akimbo, he seemed proud rather than embarrassed by his meaty ten-inch erection.

“How did Tyler know we were in that room?” I asked him in whispers, leaving my underpants behind. “And why does he want to see us? Where are we going?”

“You don’t know how lucky you are, you nepi horndog,” Olly beamed back at me. “Tyler must have been watching us on spycam. Every room in the house is bugged. You don’t seriously expect Sean and Tyler to lay all this out for the bros without having a little fun in return, do you?”

Our destination turned out to be located in yet another wing of Sean and Tyler’s sprawling residence. The butler led us across a terrace past a large swimming pool overlooking the ocean. In and around the pool, ripped studs were pistoning their enormous dicks into all sorts of tight warm holes: other men, teen boys, and small children as young as two. In the water, a pretty young man, obviously feeling neglected, shot us a longing look as he invitingly presented his superbly voluptuous ass.

Nearby, a particularly shredded pedophile went into display mode as we walked past, seeking to persuade us to join him and four other massively endowed guys who were taking turns destroying a three-year-old girl’s toddler cunt.

It broke my heart to have to pass on this opportunity: I was breathless with arousal at the thought of slamming my engorged prick into an abused toddler’s messy pussy while five horny bros cheered me on, their hands roaming over my muscled back and firm ass. Oh, to be the sixth man to cream such a tiny cunt! The events of the day had taught me that, like food, the pleasure of fucking pre-school children is incomparably enhanced by sharing it with handsome like-minded friends. I mourned my previous life as an exile from the brotherhood of active nepiophiles. Olly, however, barely noticed these lewd appeals, sending my mind into an even more vertiginous spin: what could possibly await us in Tyler’s study to justify Olly’s casual disdain of these mouth-watering invitations?

A bodyguard dressed in black, discreetly but visibly armed, stood guard by the heavy double doors leading to Tyler’s study. The “study” turned out to be a great triple-height library: under an elaborate hammerbeam ceiling, tall clerestory windows poured abundant light upon two superposed rows of bookcases running along the full perimeter of the room, the upper one surrounded by a balustraded gallery. At the far end of this palatial space, Tyler was engaged in conversation with a yummy young teenager. The kid’s finely molded torso was drenched in sweat, worked up, as the ball he was still holding indicated, during a fiercely fought basket match.

While Olly and I approached the day-bed on which Tyler was languorously reclining, we could overhear his parting exchange with the sexy athlete.

“Mmm… That tasted very, very nice… Yes, you can bring your buddy tomorrow, but on the same condition: neither of you showers after the match. I want you both to come here straightaway just as you are. Is that understood?”

The kid nodded in vigorous assent.

“Good! In you go, you babyfucking rascal. Have fun!”

“Yay!” exclaimed the excited teen as he broke into a run. Mid way towards the door at the far end of the library, however, he remembered himself. Taking a few steps back, he leaned down and passionately kissed Tyler’s mouth. Their tongues danced lustfully together for a few seconds until the kid sighed, “Thank you, Tyler. You’re my hero.”

As the teen stud disappeared through the far door, Tyler watched his oscillating hips and pert bum with a look of connoisseurial appreciation.

“Well, well, well… This is an unexpected pleasure. After all this time!” An ironic smile played on Tyler’s lips while he addressed these words to Olly while fixing his eyes on me. “I thought your friend was determined never to grace us with a visit. How ever have you managed this, Olly?”

Olly did not reply. He just caught Tyler in a passionate embrace and French-kissed him hungrily, his hands sliding down Tyler’s precisely sculpted abs to grip the fat shaft of his upsettingly beautiful cock. “Oh Tyler, I just had to come back.”

“Mmm… You do smell delicious: positively edible, darling.” Tyler continued to watch me intently while speaking only to Olly. “You know you should really move in with us.”

My cheeks blushed crimson, lacerated by the double sting of jealousy and humiliation. I was in the presence of a man who had everything and who was so much master of the situation as to need no words to compel me to give an account of myself. Seeing him at close quarters in his own house, I could not deny that Tyler did have everything: not just an exquisite body, but also a bewitching face that perfectly balanced the classical beauty of a Greek demigod with the alluring sexiness of a child. And this most unfairly beautiful man ruled a private empire of communal pedophilia, where day and night stunning men and boys pleasured their lucky pricks by penetrating the sweet tender bodies of little babies!

“Oh,” I stammered, lowering my eyes to the floor, “it’s my fault. I should have paid a visit long ago. It’s… it’s unforgivable, really.”

“Oh come, come,” answered Tyler, visibly gratified. “There’s no need for any of that, is there, Olly?”

“Mmm… no…” Olly purred between lustful licks of Tyler’s powerful neck. “Let’s celebrate! Can we have a treat, Tyler? A real treat?”

“You’re such a greedy child, Olly! You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger… Oh alright! Jennings, will you please bring today’s menu? Just two copies: one for Mr Eden and one for his companion.”

The menu? Surely supper could not be the treat that Olly had in mind? But I deduced that something else was afoot when, with an enthusiastic “Fuck yeah!”, Olly started to masturbate his glorious cock. Jennings placed a large leather-bound portfolio between my hands. Running down the side were tabs marked with the numbers 0 to 12.

“Those are months,” Tyler remarked cryptically.

“I’m going for three today! Yum!” Olly echoed.

Opening the volume at random, my heart stopped when I saw the first image in the section labelled “6”.

“Oh my fucking God!”

It was not the opulent plumpness of the baby’s bottom, the alluring cleft between his chubby cheeks, the sheer gorgeous fuckability of his tiny ass, that made my heart skip a beat; it was rather the lewd angle from which the picture was taken. I knew instinctively, but with undeniable conviction, that, as he released the shutter, the photographer had been thinking of―had perhaps already been looking forward to―sodomizing the tiny infant.

“Oh Christ!”

Sometimes the fulfillment of our expectations is more shocking than a surprise. On the next page the cute little baby was lying with his back on the sweaty abs of a shredded stud. The man’s hands were clearly visible, opening up the nursling’s legs like a pair of compasses, but his face was left out of the frame. The photograph was focused on the infant’s crotch, where, below his diminutive scrotum, a meaty adult prick of prodigious girth was hilted balls-deep in his newborn ass. Thick creamy spunk was overflowing from the the baby’s incredibly distended anal ring, showing that his fucker had just enjoyed a massive ejaculation deep in his little body.

“That’s Sean’s prick,” Tyler commented, leaning over to take a look. “So yummy and fat, isn’t it? That baby beauty is a hot fuck, by the way. Had him this morning for breakfast.”

After watching two little newborns being thoroughly fucked up the ass that evening, one by a pornstar on the screen, the other by his father and a teen rentboy directly in front of me, it was not the photograph itself that made my mind explode once again; it was rather the confirmation of what Tyler had meant by showing me this menu. He was elegantly, elliptically saying: “I’m treating you to a baby-fuck. Choose your fucktoy.”

“There are so many three-month-olds today!” exclaimed Olly, clearly accustomed to the situation. “They’re all too sexy… I can’t decide, Tyler!”

My chest felt tight. I desperately wanted to fuck a little baby. I craved infant sex with every fiber of my body. But I feared that, if I continued to look through the menu, I would ejaculate prematurely: that I would helplessly cream myself without even touching my throbbing meat. Yet I could not stop my hand from turning the page.

“Oh fuck! He’s so cute!”

The baby―little Drew, as the caption informed me―sparkled with an enchanting mixture of innocence and playfulness as his little podgy hands reached towards the camera. The next photograph showed him crawling excitedly towards the toy that fascinated him: the veiny meaty prick that only fifteen months previously had creamed his mummy’s womb with fertile sperm and which now―I had no doubt―spunked the baby’s mouth and bum every day with the same sploogey abundance.

I turned the page to see little Drew gazing dreamily into the camera while his little fingers unfurled to grasp his daddy’s swollen cockshaft and his slobbering infant mouth suckled wetly on the pedophile’s engorged glans. The six-month-old stunner looked calm and focused, as if soothed by the act of fellating his father’s enormous schlong. I could see that, for little Drew, blowing his nepi daddy to a massive ejaculation had become part of the regular routine that babies need and love so much.

“Oh dear, we’re gonna have to take the edge off that,” interposed Tyler, pointing with a smirk to the long filament of precum hanging from my painfully swollen knob. “It looks as if you’ve made your choice, but in that state you won’t be able to nurse the little cocksucker for more than a few seconds.”

Breathless with arousal, I could manage no answer but a vigorous nod to indicate that, yes, baby Drew was my heart’s desire.

“Jennings, these gentlemen and I will require an apéritif.” As the butler walked away, Tyler added as an afterthought, “Something strong, Jennings.”

Seconds later, Jennings came back into the room leading a naked little girl by the hand. The chubby little toddler, no more than three years old, was stark naked. Her tearful face looked anxious, and she ran to Tyler as soon as she saw him.

“Where ith my daddy?”

“Oh don’t worry, sweetie. Your daddy is having lots of fun with other daddies in that room over there.” Tyler’s voice had a mocking edge as he pointed to the inner door while winking at us.

“I wanna go to him.”

“In a moment, sweetie. First, Uncle Tyler and these nice men have to rape your little toddler holes.”

“Wape? What'th that?”

“I’ll show you, sweetie.”

The next few seconds are like a fast blur in my memory. Tyler grabbed the little toddler roughly, turned her around to face us, lifted her in the air, and with one violent motion thrust his eleven-inch erection balls-deep into her tiny bottom. The little bitch let out a blood-curdling scream at the sudden destruction of her asshole, but this was immediately silenced by Olly, who with astonishingly precise movements pinched the little girl’s nostrils shut, yanked her jaw open, and hilted his throbbing meat in her tight throat. I stood as if paralyzed, watching Tyler and Olly reaming the three-year-old’s mouth and ass with bestial growls of pleasure. The din of toddler rape sounded deafening in my ears.

“What are you doing?” Tyler shouted angrily at me. “Rape her baby cunt, man!” Seeing my indecision, he rolled his eyes impatiently. “Jennings, help him out, will you?”

A split-second later Jennings stood behind me, holding a bottle of poppers under my right nostril and pressing my left nostril shut with his left index finger. “Please inhale, sir.” I obeyed, and with smooth practised movements he passed the bottle into his left hand. “And again, sir. Deeply, sir, if you please.”

A wave of sexual heat coursed through my body. Suddenly, everything seemed clear and simple: my mind was emptied of all thought save a vivid awareness of my rock-hard prick, so cruelly deprived until then of access to pre-school children, and of the little girl’s plump buttery pussylips, so chubby with baby fat. I understood that I had to punish her for the dreary absence of baby sex from my life so far, and so, full of rage, I slammed my engorged meat into her immature cunt. I was filled with exhilaration as I saw her belly button bulge out, raised from inside by my thrusting cock, while I felt Tyler’s raping prick massage mine across the toddler’s internal membranes. The feeling of her tiny legs desperately kicking against the assault on her baby cunt made me bestially horny. I experienced an exquisite thrill of sexual satisfaction in completely dominating and overpowering the toddler slut, and a wave of love for Olly and Tyler for sharing their criminal enjoyment with me.

“Let’s change holes,” Tyler groaned after I had powerfucked the three-year-old cunt for a minute or so.

Tyler’s face shone transfigured by the irresistible beauty of evil. As we withdrew our pricks, he flipped the three-year-old bitch over and hilted his huge schlong in her wrecked cunt, presenting her abused ass to me.

“Mount her, cowboy,” he whispered seductively. “Ride her like a mare!”

I squatted and mounted her, sodomizing her baby ass with the same violence as if she had been an animal. My swinging scrotum caressed Tyler’s huge testicles, the girl’s tiny body almost lost between our sweaty undulating torsos.

“Fuck yeah!” Tyler groaned as her body went limp.

She had passed out, either from the shock or from the pain, and her unconscious body opened up to our raping cocks like a flower. All agency gone, she was just a piece of toddler flesh to pleasure our dicks with and to empty our balls into. A fog of pleasure rose in my brain. I no longer recall what happened next. The “I” in my head fell silent. All that remained was the unleashed, raging, child-fucking beast.

The next thing I remember is lying between Olly and Tyler, panting, laughing, and kissing them both with unqualified love. The room seemed flooded with festive light, and every gulp of breath seemed to fill my chest with joy.

“How’s your cock know, stud?” Tyler asked tenderly.

Surprised, I realized that I was still erect. My meat was buzzing and ready for more.


	4. Part Four

“Jennings, be so kind as to show our guests through, and please communicate their choices to our staff.”  Turning to us, Tyler took his leave with this injunction: “Now, gentlemen, do yourselves proud.”

Was he mocking us? Unless I was about to become the victim of a cruel practical joke―or, worse, of a malicious trap―two sexy babies, three and six months old, were being laid out next door so that Olly and I could use their tight little throats and immature boycunts to pleasure our meaty fucktools and drain our loaded testicles. Was that what a host said to his nepi guests on such occasions: “Now, gentlemen, do yourselves proud”?

Yet the solemnity of Tyler’s adieu accorded well with the mood in the antechamber where Olly and I next found ourselves. Like us, the four gorgeous men who already occupied the room were obviously horned up beyond endurance: each seemed unable to keep his hands off his enormous schlong, while also afraid that all but the briefest contact with his swollen prick would cause him to drench himself in a heavy shower of gooey babybatter.

There was none of the ribald joking or the obscene discussion of child molestation techniques that saturate the waiting rooms of pedo whorehouses across the world. While Jennings moved across the floor, whispering indistinct instructions to a footman carrying a clipboard, these nepi studs remained silent, only occasionally breathing an anxious sigh or involuntarily letting out an excited “Fuck!” The mixture of extreme sexual arousal and intense anticipation, almost menace, which pervaded the room communicated itself wordlessly through the restlessness of the nepiophiles’ pumped-up bodies, as they shivered and chomped at the bit like thoroughbred stallions at the starting gate of a major horserace.

This darkly charged atmosphere took me by surprise: it gave me butterflies in my stomach and made my cock jump, releasing a steady flow of precum. Disconcertingly, I experienced a vivid sense of having been there before and, although it made no sense at all, the feeling of déjà vu excited me to the point of becoming weak at the knees.

Suddenly, I remembered. I was transported back in time to a day during my last year at school, when I was seventeen. That morning, as usual, little Tommy stole away from the playground next door and came to see me between lessons. Normally a sunnily cheerful child, the five-year-old loved big boys’ games, specially fellating my huge teen schlong or taking it up his tight little ass.

That day, however, he arrived in floods of tears, sobbing as he recounted how he had been cruelly abused by Stuart, a misbegotten fat bully in my class, from whom everyone―little children, teen boys, and adult teachers alike―recoiled in instinctive and irrepressible disgust.

Later in the afternoon, my buddies and I avenged little Tommy’s outraged honor. Stuart never saw us coming as we surrounded him in the locker room. He never sensed the tacit but perfect understanding that turned our gang of studly adolescent jocks into a pack of blood-thirsty wolves. He never saw the rage and lust for violence welling up in our chests, never noticed our fists clenching and preparing to wreak irreparable damage on his despised features. He only realized what was happening, in a flash of agonized and despairing recognition, when my fist smashed into his face, destroying his nasal cartilages with a satisfying crunch. In a second we were all viciously punching and kicking his puppet-like head and flabby body. We abandoned ourselves to a frenzy of delicious brutality. The pleasure of reducing the loathsome bastard to an disfigured pulp made us grunt and moan more voluptuously than if we had been gangbanging a little girl. Our bloody work made our teen pricks incredibly hard.

When I stopped, out of breath, I saw that Tommy had brought a few little friends to witness the restoration of his honor―which, as he and everyone understood, had not been sullied because he had been raped, but only because the rapist had been a misshapen repugnant toad. Admiration and hero-worship for Tommy’s handsome avengers were written large on the children’s beautiful faces as they masturbated their smooth tiny cocklets with feverish delight. Taking the lead, Tommy came up to me, took my right fist gently between his little hands, and brought it to his mouth. He licked and sucked my aching knuckles tenderly until his tongue was bathed in the sharp taste of blood and his cheeks were smeared with red. Sighing with satisfaction, he then seized my meaty shaft reverently and, never taking his eyes off mine, swallowed my throbbing erection deep into his tight five-year-old throat. As Tommy’s little head started bobbing on my veiny schlong, flooding my whole being with unutterable euphoria, two of his small companions followed suit: one, a blue-eyed blond, licked the blood off my left fist and then, slightly squatting between my muscled thighs, started to slurp on my low-hanging testicles; the other, a spectacularly cute redhead with an enchantingly freckly nose, knelt on the floor to wash the blood off my bruised feet with his warm soft tongue, which seconds later was tenderly but lustfully licking between my firm buttocks. The three five-year-old boysluts applied their little mouths to stimulating my cock, balls, and ass with the solemn devotion of knights of medieval romance doing homage to their king:

“Thou hast conquered, and we thy faithful vassals render humble tribute unto thy mighty prick.”

My teen buddies and I had never experienced such fierce joys, such primal thrills, as on the day when we bare-handedly killed Stuart (he did not survive). We celebrated until midnight by repeatedly mouthfucking and sodomizing our grateful five-year-old admirers, for at that age we were all able to nut no fewer than eight or nine times per day. Simple as those pleasures were, the aftermath was complicated: it took a great deal of skillful and coordinated maneuvering by teachers and parents to ensure that all the killers got off scot-free. Tommy’s dad supported us indefatigably. In the following months he regularly invited me to join him in mind-blowingly intense pedo sessions with his hot little son, who never tired of proudly servicing the sexual needs of the two most important men in his young life. When I left for university, however, we gradually lost touch.

As I became an adult, I came to regard that gloriously fulfilling day―not without regret―as a one-off, as an exceptional rite of passage never to be repeated. The memory of that awesome satisfaction, shared communally with my bros as we thrashed a loathed bastard to death and fucked a gaggle of happy children, remained vividly sharp in the depths of my memory, but it surfaced into my consciousness with increasing rarity.

But now, in Tyler’s anteroom, I shivered again with the same predatory alertness: I savored the same metallic taste of excitement, blended of horniness and menace, as on that exquisite moment when, smirking to my complicit buddies, I prepared to land the first devastating punch on Stuart’s culpably ugly mug. As a look of understanding passed between Olly and me, I again felt like a sleek grey wolf, joined in silent but perfect synchrony with the other members of my pack while we ruthlessly stalked our prey.

“Gentlemen, please come through.”

For the next two or three minutes my mind was tossed hither and thither like a leaf in a hurricane of overpowering impressions. It was only later, and gradually, that I was able to form a stable mental picture of Sean and Tyler’s baby room. Understanding the deep and perverse calculations that had gone into every aspect of its design was to cost me the intellectual labor of weeks, months, perhaps years. Only then was I able to penetrate its true nature. It was a machine for shattering men’s souls and reassembling them in new configurations. One entered as a man; one left as something else: a faun, a centaur―half beast, half god.

The baby room was a rotunda of noble proportions. All along its colonnaded perimeter, arched French windows overlooking a verdant garden alternated with tall piers faced with splendid baroque mirrors. In front of each mirror there was a large sturdy crib filled with toys and teddy bears. In each crib there was a big adult man having vigorous penetrative sex with a small baby.

The men were all magnificent specimens of superior malenes. Tall, handsome, superbly muscled, they ranged in build from the towering powerfullness of the quarterback to the canonical perfection of the swimmer. Yet in one respect we were all decidedly abnormal: no one was admitted into the room unless his fucktool exceeded ten inches in length. And that was not enough to satisfy Sean and Tyler’s exacting requirements: the look of your sex muscle mattered as much as its size, and so all schlongs met rigorous criteria of girth, veininess, and raw meatiness. Your testicles had to be spectacular too. It was a simple formula: built like a god, hung like a horse.

The babies were selected with equal care. In compliance with a rule that admitted absolutely no exceptions, none of the fucktoys had reached his first birthday; most were between three and nine months old. Their soft fuckable bums had to be sexily chubby, with opulent rolls of baby fat. Their cock-sucking lips had to be rosy; their eyes, large, innocent, and dreamy; their faces, bewitchingly cute. The standard, ruthlessly enforced, was set by the models used in worldwide advertising campaigns by leading diaper manufacturers.

Yet, for all the beauty on display in every direction, the strongest impression that one received on entering the baby room was not visual; it was auditory. I had not expected that a dozen pumped-up hunks fucking newborn children, however energetically, would make such a startlingly loud noise. It was an intoxicating combination: men grunting, tots squealing, the wet slapping of huge sweat-drenched testicles on tiny podgy legs; studs moaning, infants cooing, the glucking suction of little mouths feeding on ejaculating pricks; pedos swearing, babies whimpering, the obscene hydraulic squelching of fat schlongs pistoning into newborns’ guts. The din of this muscle-on-baby orgy was amplified by the resonant acoustics of the room. It reverberated from the lofty dome like the roar of a mighty organ echoing through the vaults of a cathedral. It was a pedo symphony, a nepi cantata, a babyfucking oratorio.

“Sir? Sir?” The footman had to pull on my arm to bring me out of my astonishment. “Sir, this way, please. I’ll show you to your crib. Your baby is waiting.”


	5. Part Five

“Sir? Sir?… Sir, this way, please. I’ll show you to your crib. Your baby is waiting.”

I regained my composure and followed the footman. Little baby Drew was indeed waiting: his enchanting infant features conveyed something like apprehension. Did he know that he was about to be fucked hard? Was his six-month-old brain anticipating what my stiff prick would do to his little body? I think so. Accustomed as he was to sucking on large slabs of hard cockmeat, he instinctively sought to comfort himself by bringing his own tiny toe to his little mouth. Instinct betrayed him. This posture exposed his sumptuously chubby bum to my eyes, giving me a glimpse of his anal rosebud, nestled between the rolls of baby fat of his plump buttocks. It made me growl with nepi hunger.

There is an infinitely tantalizing moment of ambiguity when a man is taking an intense interest in a naked little baby. Any alert observer can see that the man’s attention is completely absorbed in the infant’s face and body―that he is fascinated, charmed, bewitched. But, as yet, it could be just affection, just innocent fatherly tenderness. Then a movement is made, a line is crossed, and the same alert observer no longer doubts that the man’s interest is sexual and that he is about to use the infant’s defenseless holes to achieve awesome carnal gratification. Dear reader, I did not cross that line; I smashed through it with the force of a jet aircraft breaking the sound barrier. I pounced on little Drew, impatient to get sexual as soon as possible with his hot little six-month-old body.

My first move was to gobble up his baby package, so small that a single long lustful lick of my adult tongue allowed me to taste his tiny cocklet, his sweetly wrinkled infant scrotum, and his unbearably hot and exciting anal ring. I let his sexy innocent smell fill my nose and mouth until it permeated my brain, making my throbbing cock release thick squirts of precum. Then, with a thrill that can be experienced but not rendered in words, I started to make out with him: I French-kissed his tiny six-month-old mouth with the intensity that, in sex with adults, is only ever reached at the start of an adulterous affair. My large male adult tongue invaded his tiny baby mouth as if claiming possession of a conquered country.

As I came up for air, my chest felt tight. The pounding of my heart was loud in my ears, like an artillery barrage. I paused. This, I reflected, might be the first and last time I fucked a little baby. I could not do it in a mindless frenzy that left no more than a confused and indistinct trace in my brain. Tyler was giving me a precious gift, something to treasure in the archives of my memory with as much reverence as all the inherited wisdom of Western civilization. I would do it carefully. I would do it deliberately. I would do it right.

“Come, babyslut,” I whispered to Drew, my voice thick with lust. “You’re gonna nurse on my big prick like the six-month-old whore that you are.”

I reclined comfortably on the soft toys piled at the head of the crib, which served as perverted pedophilic pillows. I spread my powerful thighs wide and held the base of my pulsating schlong with my left hand. Then, pressing the baby’s head down with my right hand, I stuffed my meaty knob into his infant mouth.

“Oh fuuuuuuck! Fuck! Fuck! … Ungh… Suck daddy, you newborn slut!”

Being fellated by a newborn baby was everything I had expected and nothing like what I had expected. The sensations were even more satisfying than I had imagined, yet had a physical quality that I could never have predicted. I closed my eyes and felt as if my whole body was dissolving in sweet syrup, with the melting sensation irradiating from my meaty knob, on which little Drew’s rosy lips, soft gums, and busy tongue were performing their infant magic.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw that two or three men were watching me intently, their faces animated with lewd curiosity while they slowly sodomized their own baby fucktoys. I stared back, incredibly aroused to see their magnificent male bodies sweating with the labor of fucking infant asses. The footmen had lowered the barriers of all the cribs, and the center of the rotunda was kept clear, so my line of sight was nowhere interrupted. The ornate mirrors that encircled the room reflected every act of infant sexual abuse from multiple viewpoints.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I swore as a flash of understanding lit my brain with depraved insight.

I had grasped Sean and Tyler’s perverse design in establishing the geometry of the room and choosing its furnishings. The rotunda, I realized, was a high-tech instrument of pedophilic voyeurism, nothing less than a nepi panopticon. At all times, every man could see what every other man was doing to a baby, and from different angles. Each of us was sexually abusing an under-one child, while simultaneously watching eleven channels of top-quality hardcore nepi porn, only with the immediacy of live action in real life!

My eyes strayed to the crib on my left, which was occupied by a famous pornstar. I recognized his beautifully chiselled features from countless gay videos. I had wanked over him so many times. He was engaged in an exquisitely perverse game with the tiny two-month-old baby anxiously nursing on his famous fucktool. The baby was obviously hungry and poured all of his instinctive sucking talent into stimulating the stud’s meaty glans. In turn, the aroused nepi was so horny that his prick kept leaking a constant stream of precum. The milky liquid that bathed the pornstar’s throbbing cockmeat triggered an inborn memory of the nipple in the baby’s immature brain, making him devote himself to his sweet labor of suction with ever greater application. As the thrilling sensations in his cock reached a crescendo, the sexy pedo would put his hand on the back of the baby’s head and force a few inches of his engorged sex muscle into the baby’s tight throat. The sheer depravity of this action and the wet glucking noises that it caused would bring the pornstar to the very verge of orgasm, only for him to stop, reduce the pressure on the baby’s head, and let him resume his hungry sucking.

It was an exquisitely debauched exercise in achieving gratification by delaying gratification―and witnessing it gave me a voyeuristic delight beyond what I thought possible. I found myself waiting for the maddeningly exciting moment when the pornstar’s devastatingly handsome features became contorted with nepi ecstasy, when his jaw slackened and he frowned from the very unbearableness of the pleasure, only to pull back. At that moment of not-quite-orgasm, in which he almost but not quite ejaculated in the tiny suckling mouth of a two-month-old baby, his face was a flash of the divine, a glimpse of the inconceivable orgasms of the Olympian gods. As he exploited the baby’s suckling instinct for his own perverse gratification, pretending to feed the infant but withholding his daddymilk, he had the infernal beauty of a dashing vampire, feeding greedily on his victim but refraining at the last moment from consuming the last drop of blood, so that the victim may yet live and the predatory creature may again and again relish the pungent pleasure of sinking his fangs into that exposed palpitating neck.

Fearful that this obscene spectacle would make me cream myself sooner than I wanted to, I turned to the crib on my right. Here, an impossibly well-muscled stud was grinding his crotch onto the crib with voluptuous gyrations of his slender waist, whose gracefulness offered a mouth-watering contrast with the imposing power of this broad shoulders and massive biceps.

Wait―grinding his crotch onto the crib? Of course not! He was actually thrusting his mighty schlong into a little baby’s tight ass. The tiny infant was trapped between the mattress and the huge bulk of the pedophile’s body. The poor fucktoy was so small that his little limbs could not be seen under the writhing mass of muscle of the man who kept swearing from the sheer mind-blowing pleasure of sodomizing his newborn ass.

This sight filled me with resolution. It was time to stick my pedo rape-tool up little Drew’s newborn ass. At long last, I was going to sodomize a six-month-old baby! Growling with lust, I grabbed his little body and flipped him on his tummy, eager to fuck the baby from behind like a cheap infant whore. Little Drew let out a squeal of anxiety and started to crawl away. He obviously recognized the movement as a prelude to getting his tiny ass thoroughly fucked, and he didn’t like getting fucked―not yet, anyway.

Little Drew’s attempted evasion awoke something primal and predatory in me―the same instinct that leads the leopard to play with its prey before the kill. Maliciously, I let him crawl as far as the bottom of the crib, as if he were going to make good his escape. At that last moment, I grabbed him by one little foot and dragged him back to me. He let out an angry scream and started to kick back as I opened his little legs. Ruthlessly, I parted his chubby buttocks with the thumb and index finger of my left hand, and with my right hand I pressed my engorged rape-tool onto his twitching infant asshole. His desperate resistance and the manic kicking of his little legs made me salivate. I was giddy with sexual greed. Slowly and firmly, I pushed.

“Ooooooh.” A loud voluptuous moan escaped my mouth at the same time as little Drew let out a piercing squeal. “Mmmphh… Hilted in a… unghh… in a six-month-old baby… Fuuuuuck!”

Without realizing, I closed my eyes to savor the exquisite sensations. Guided by touch alone, I started to pump my sex muscle into the baby’s hot little body.

I do not know for how long I dwelt in this heaven. Seconds? Minutes? Half an hour? I honestly do not know. Eventually, though, my eyelids parted, and I gradually realized that the eyes of all the aroused fuckers in the room were focused on me. Why? What? And then, a flash of recognition. The mirror.

I recognized my own body, performing with consummate poise a ballet that has been and will always be danced wherever horny studs sodomize little babies. My rippling abs, sculpted by superior genes and perfected by vigorous training, were now invested with the satanic glamor of infant rape. Thrusting my huge sex muscle into the tiny ass of a six-month-old baby, my undulating movements had acquired the perfect and eternal beauty of all acts ordained by nature: of hunting and devouring an animal when you are hungry, of pitilessly bending a resentful female to your will, of slowly strangling a hated enemy’s neck with your bare hands, of swooningly kissing the sweet mouth of the buddy you love.

I kept glancing at myself in the mirrors while basking in the lustful stares of all the other men, who eye-fucked me openly as they admired the gymnastic grace with which I pumped my rape-tool into Drew’s newborn cunt. We were gorgeous surfers riding a mounting wave of communal pedophilic arousal. We felt the brotherly bond between the members of a football team: proudly naked, we were greedily fucking tiny infant boys on the pitch, while all around us the stadium roared its applause and tens of thousands of deliriously excited males cheered us on, shouted their adoration, worshiped our huge nepi pricks, and wanted us, begged us, implored us to ejaculate in the babies…

And so I came.

Dear reader, do not ask me to describe that indescribable moment, which stands outside time and remains the supreme culmination of my life. If you want to know what it is like, I have only one thing to say to you: find a baby and do it. Do it.

I was returned to human time by a young man who threw himself at my neck, kissing me greedily.

“That was incredible,” he sighed. “You’re the best fuck my li'l bro has ever had. Promise you’ll visit us! The three of us will have so much fun with him, won’t we, Dad?”

Little Drew’s older brother turned to his dad. As if his enormous erection did not sufficiently confirm his approval of the plan, the father gave me a big thumbs-up. “Fuck,” he added, “I’ve never wanted sloppy seconds so much in my whole life!”

The next moment Olly was standing next to me, his bewitching face beaming with pride and happiness.

“Come,” he said, extending his arm.

I let myself be led by the hand through the French windows out into the garden. A graveled path, winding its way among tall pines, descended gently to the beach. A subtle scent of evening flowers wafted in the warm breeze, as if stirred by the vines of star jasmine with their tiny propellers. The sun declined towards the ocean, setting the horizon ablaze with fires of pink and gold.

On the beach only two or three studs lying on towels whimpered and moaned quietly, struggling to delay their inexorable orgasms as talented toddlers worked diligently between their muscled thighs, wetly fellating their beercan schlongs. Further away, a group of friends were licking a six-month-old baby all over with their large male tongues, eliciting delighted chuckles from the little rascal, which in turn moved the men to gales of open-throated laughter. Most of Tyler’s guests, however, their nepi appetites temporarily sated, had broken up into couples or trios engaged in flirtatious, and sometimes openly amorous, conversation.

“You were amazing, buddy. I couldn’t take my eyes off your sweaty balls when you rubbed them on your baby’s pretty face. They’re fucking huge.” Olly and I smiled as we overheard this breathless declaration.

“Oh, it was you,” came the response. “They swelled up with daddymilk when I saw you piston your fat dick into that two-month-old slut. You owned his newborn ass.”

“Come here, bro.”

Something melted inside me as I witnessed the conspiratorial intimacy between the two gorgeous babyfuckers. With my left arm I gathered Olly to me, tenderly holding his chin in my right hand. His azure eyes rose towards mine. As our lips touched, our eyelids closed, eclipsing his sapphire irises. This plunge into pure blueness followed by engulfing darkness―it was like diving into the ocean.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I resurfaced.

“It’s alright now, isn’t it? Everything. It’s all alright?” sighed Olly, laying his cheek on my chest, which felt too full for words.

I nodded, my eyes brimming with happy tears. Olly smiled serenely and, taking me by the hand again, he led me to the part of the beach where Tyler, followed at a distance by Jennings with a small platoon of waiters and footmen, was attending to his guests. One by one, as he approached them, the little groups of partying nepiophiles were lit by the radiance of his beauty and joy, like candles on a sparkling chandelier. As dusk gathered, he seemed to shine ever more brightly, as if indeed he was Hesperus, the evening star who brings lovers together.

“You planned it all,” I declared gravely. “You foresaw it all.”

“What did I plan?” By this question Tyler conveyed that while, yes, he had indeed pre-ordained everything, it remained to be seen whether I truly understood what had actually happened.

“A lesson in rape. It was my last chance: I had to rape that baby if I was ever to become a man. But I did: I raped his little ass hard. I took him by force and I fucking loved it!”

For the first time in our acquaintance, Tyler looked into my eyes without irony.

“I see it now,” I continued. “What I did to the little girl in your study―that wasn’t rape. Olly and you raped her thoroughly, but I didn’t. I wasn’t able to yet. Yes, I destroyed her toddler ass, but at that moment I was a beast; I wasn’t responsible for my actions. Baby Drew was different: I decided to violate his infant bum, I enjoyed thwarting his escape, I loved overcoming his resistance and forcing him to pleasure my dick with this tiny body. And I watched myself doing it, methodically and deliberately; I even showed off to the other guys; I gloried in the deed. I took what was mine all along, only I didn’t know it… Fuck, it was liberation!”

“That’s the heart of the matter,” interposed Tyler, no longer cool but full of animation. “You were Prometheus, in chains. Now you’re free. You’ve taken your rightful place in the order of Creation: at its summit, with us, your alpha brothers.

You see, animals exist so that we can sate our hunger by eating their flesh. Inferior men exist to labor and toil so that we can enjoy our superior lives in leisure and luxury. Women exist so that we can break their wills, impregnate them, and have them bear our babies. And babies―those most beautiful, most enchanting, most precious of creatures―they exist so that, by debauching them with our obscene pricks and by ejaculating our gooey spunk in their defenseless bodies, we may teach the whole Universe that we are its masters!”

I struggled to withstand the intensity of Tyler’s gaze: Hesperus now blazed with the glare of a black sun.

“Rape, like incest or murder, is not important in itself,” he elaborated, “but only as a symbol, as a token of our supremacy: we tread on the law only to remind the world that we are above it. Our only duty, which we owe only to ourselves, is pleasure.”

No words of my own could do justice to the shattering force of Tyler’s revelation, and so, as if in prayer, I offered him Olly’s:

“You’re awesome, bro. You’ve blown my mind. You’re a fucking hero.”

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> show me some love.


End file.
